Dark Desires: an Old Republic Story (rewrite)
by Psychopithicus
Summary: In the years following the Treaty of Coruscant, a fragile peace formed between the Galactic Republic and the Sith Empire. But, when a rogue force threatens to ravage the galaxy, beings from all walks of life find their paths forcibly intertwined.


**Hello, all. Some may recognize the title, but this is a rewrite of a story I wrote a while back, featuring my main SWTOR characters. My writing has gotten better since those times, and I wanted to give this old story a bit of a facelift.**

 **Without further ado, let us begin...**

 **Dark Desires: an Old Republic Story**

Chapter 1:

The wind rolled across the peaceful plains of the planet Dantooine, carrying with it a sense of belonging. Populated by farms and small settlements, Dantooine was a haven for those who sought tranquility. Since the signing of the Treaty of Coruscant, this included the once-revered Jedi Order. Scattered to the stars, the Jedi lied in wait, preparing for the day when they would be needed once more.

"Strike!"

Within a small enclave, a young woman brought a training saber down upon a similar device wielded by an older man. The two exchanged a series of parries and blows until the man struck the woman's leg. The mild electrocution that resulted from the impact caused her to kneel, allowing the man to bring his blade above her head…

…and then let it gently drop to his side.

"I concede," the woman said, bowing her head.

"You did quite well, Shalanna," the man said, helping the woman to her feet. "One day, your proficiency with a blade will match your strength with the Force."

"You give me far too much credit, Master Zeeloss," Shalanna shook her head. "I only put to use what I learned from you."

"Ah, Shalanna…you are a Padawan that so many Jedi dream of having," Zeeloss chuckled. "Strong with the Force, yet humble and gentle. You will make a fine Jedi."

"Thank you, Master," Shalanna bowed.

"Now, then, I must go speak with the Jedi Council in regards to recent events," Zeeloss said. "May the Force be with you, my Padawan."

With a bow exchanged between them, Master Zeeloss left his Padawan. With a breath, she wiped sweat out of her dirty blonde hair, adjusting the three buns that it was tied into. Today's sparring session left her exhausted, so it was time to do what she loved most; studying the history of the Jedi.

As she walked to the library, her brown robes trailing behind her, Shalanna's green eyes drifted across the hallways of the small enclave. It was no great temple, to be sure, but it was home to her, just as it was home to many other young Jedi-in-training like her. While she was a Padawan, ahead of many already, she considered herself no better than the person next to her.

Once she reached the library, the person next to her happened to be a male Miraluka in an adjacent seat. Shalanna sat down by a table and gave him a friendly smile.

"Greetings, Telonus," she said.

The Miraluka sighed, putting a hand to the red-and-gold cloth that covered his head.

"Hello, Shalanna," he said. "I see you still have yet to acknowledge the fact that I no longer want to be called by my birth name."

"I've been meaning to ask…why not?" Shalanna said. "Why would you throw away a part of who you are in exchange for the name of an ancient Jedi?"

"Not just any ancient Jedi," the Miraluka smiled. "Jolee Bindo, the Gray Jedi, a great man who played a great part in the Jedi Civil War from three hundred years ago. A man whose name I want to keep alive…hence my going by 'Bindo' as of late."

"But, why?" Shalanna asked. "Why are you so fond of a man who encouraged the sort of emotions that lead to the dark side?"

"Well," Bindo sighed as he turned to her, "just as you can't understand my choice in names…I can't understand your devotion to the Jedi Code. Light and dark…I don't believe in absolutes, just what I see in an individual. Figuratively, of course," he added with a quick gesture to the headdress that covered his eyes.

"That's all well and good," Shalanna remarked, "but how will you keep yourself from falling to the dark side?"

Bindo's frown betrayed his desperate longing for eyes to roll at this development.

"Look," he sighed as he got up, "you have your views and I have mine. Let's just keep it that way, no interference from either side."

"But, Telonus—"

"And, _please_ , just call me Bindo!" the Miraluka groaned as he left the library, leaving a perplexed Shalanna alone.

* * *

Far from Dantooine, a space station rested in orbit around the gas giant known as Yavin. Inside, a dark gloved hand glided over a large stasis tube. The hand's owner was a man, identifiable only by his torso structure due to the metallic mask and grey bandaged cloak that covered his body. Beside him was a rather heavily-armored member of the red-skinned Sith Pureblood species, golden eyes transfixed on the stasis tank's contents.

"Do you know the tales, Kiriad?" the hooded man asked. "The tales of Revan?"

The Sith Pureblood shook his head.

"Revan was once a powerful Jedi," the hooded man said. "Centuries ago, he and his friend Alek Squinquargesimus—later his apprentice, Darth Malak—disobeyed the foolish Jedi Council and fought the Mandalorian Wars on behalf of the Republic. They were victorious, of course. But that was not enough for them, for afterwards they sought out a great weapon…the Star Forge. The rest, as they say, is history."

Kiriad nodded. He knew of the Star Forge, a factory so powerful that it could produce armies and fleets within moments. This great power had a cost, however, for the Star Forge fed upon the energies of the Force's dark side. Only the most strong-willed beings could resist the hunger of the Star Forge, a description that Revan and Malak fit well.

"Do you understand why I brought up Revan?" the hooded man asked.

Kiriad shook his head.

"You see, my apprentice…Revan was one of the most powerful Force-users the galaxy has ever known," the hooded man said. "As a Sith, he and Malak came within inches of conquering the galaxy. As a Jedi, Revan ended the Sith's advance in a matter of weeks, whereas without him it would have taken months or years for the Republic to win...provided that they would even have won at all."

He spread his arms wide.

"With _this_ ," he continued, "it will be as if Revan himself were on the field of battle once again. _This_ shall be the harbinger of our conquest."

Kiriad looked back to the tank, eyeing its contents again.

" _This_ …is Project Blacknova," the hooded man finished, his voice containing a mixture of anticipation and malice. Kiriad, however, gazed upon the tank's occupant with wonder at how—why—it could be so important. He gazed with wonder…and also pity. What sort of live could this experiment have had without the machinations of his master?

Before the hooded man's musings could continue, the door behind them opened. A Chiss stepped into the room, identified by his blue skin and blood red eyes. He wore a set of light armor that seemed to almost blend into his surroundings.

"The last of the mercenaries have arrived, Lord Metarrid," the Chiss reported.

"Ah, yes…thank you," the hooded man said. "Brief them on their new job…and feel free to remind them how expendable they are."

The Chiss bowed and left. Kiriad looked over to Metarrid.

"I know," his master said with a nod.

Metarrid soon left the room, and with a glance back at Project Blacknova, Kiriad followed.


End file.
